Tag: life

Twice in one week, I have been driven via golf cart directly to my vehicle at the end of the night, instead of my just walking the half mile (or more), as I was entirely willing to do, and it both times made me feel a little bit like a princess.

Tonight in the wine garden at the rodeo, we had a unique scene occur. I was standing in line for the toilets – a very long line that doubled in size just in the time I waited in it. I found myself wondering how the men’s toilets were. They were part of the same trailers as the women’s toilets. There was even a door on the inside that connected the men’s to the women’s toilets within a trailer. Well, two guys come waltzing out of the men’s toilets in the trailer next to ours, and declare ‘Hey, we’re unisex here; you can use these, ladies.’ A small, but somewhat mad dash ensues by ladies that had been a ways back in our line.

“They say that…” I begin, but end there, for my conflicting thoughts couldn’t agree upon an end to the sentence. It boiled down to the question of who would be liable for the issue of inappropriate bathroom use by the opposite gender – because I know that it is actually a thing – and the matter of 1) if anyone actually cared, and, if so, 2) who would be the one/s to correct/stop the behavior (aka enforce the gender rule of the toilets).

Sure enough, within moments after my statement, a grounds service person heads calmly up to the men’s bathroom and the line of ladies standing at it, and tells the ladies that they can’t use the men’s bathroom. By the time I was going into the trailer, – by the way, these are fancy trailers with flushing toilets and hand washing and even paper towels – the man had almost persuaded the likely drunk final three ladies from the men’s toilets. Though, I’m not sure he managed to get them out before they used the toilets. We could see straight into the men’s bathroom while the door was being held open, and it cracked me up, because there were two women standing in the walkway-type area of the trailer, next to the stalls, the worked outside the trailer, failing to convince them that it wasn’t okay for them to be in there, and a man’s head and cowboy hat 100% clear above one of the stall doors, while he clearly was using the toilet within the stall, but still chatting with the people outside of his stall, who were standing in the bathroom (i.e. the ladies), plus the man outside the trailer.

The whole thing just cracked me up.

Also, there were only two or three stalls (I think two) in the men’s section, whereas the women’s section had five stalls. I appreciated that fact.

I broke my new (to me) car today. Okay, well, a part of it. The car was parked on a street whose sides really sloped downward – and I mean a lot. When I went to open the driver door, after unlocking it, the door opened just slightly, before my hand flew towards me, and the door slammed back shut. The handle had broken.

And so, at least until I find a bonding agent – aka glue – that will hold well enough to stick the broken underside of the driver handle into place – hey, I wonder if that’s the issue with the other door – , I’ll have to do what I did this afternoon and tonight, and enter my vehicle from the passenger front door, because now both doors on the driver side won’t open from the outside (but the back seat door came that way when I received the car, so that wasn’t my doing).

Guy: ‘C—, you know, there are people over here you could be serving, instead of just hanging out here,’ he says teasingly.

Hannah: ‘Uh, she is absolutely doing her job. She is giving us, the guests, exactly what we want, and, right now, that is her attention.’

Guy: ‘Well, is there anything I can do for you?’

Hannah: ‘That depends. What are you offering?’

Guy: ‘I’m offering whatever you’re thinking. What would you like for me to offer?’

Hannah: ‘…We could discuss it.’

[laughter from both]

………………………………………………….

How’s that for silly flirtatious conversation in the wine garden? It’s amazing how wonderful life seems to go when I just let things be and rest calmly within myself. That was a brief glimpse into the many wonderful conversations that occurred the other day/evening/night in my life, when I was comfortable and at ease with and within myself. I love being me/myself. 🙂

I am having breakdown after breakdown with these graduate school essays. Is it that I really just don’t want to apply? I think not. Is it that I am scared of applying? Likely.

I am scared for various reasons.

I do not want to be rejected. I am good enough for this program. But I might not be a good match for it. So, if the school decides that I am not a good match, and rejects my application, what then? If the school accepts me, and I later find out that I am not a good match, and I end up hating the program, what then? What if I am a good match for the program/school, but I end up just not liking the studies? And am I applying because it just feels like something safe to pursue? So many of my co-agers seem to have resorted to graduate school whenever something else for work has not panned out as hoped. Do I resist applying, because I am worried that it will look like a sort of ‘I messed up and had no back-up plan, so I have to go to graduate school,’ kind of thing?

I like being prestigious. I enjoy being snobby. (Not like crazy, but to a certain degree, I mean.) I love the schools I have already attended, and I love being able to tell people that I attended them. They are special, well-known, highly acclaimed, and amazing quality schools. I feel like this one is nowhere near the same caliber, and holds very little respect in its name. The only way I would be comfortable attending it, would be if I had something amazing afterward, be it a spectacular PhD program or seemingly unreal work success. It is the kind of place where I would want to work, not attend school. Just like my teaching last semester, I want to be able to share about the school as someone who supports it as an outsider. Attending the school would feel in adequate for my own abilities, skills, and knowledge. I want a graduate degree, but I think I don’t want it from here.

However, is this fear coming forth, creating excuses for me? I suppose the best plan of action would be to apply to the program, and then see what happens. If they accept me, great. Now I get to choose to attend or not. If they reject me, great. Now I get to choose what else to do with my talents and my time. (I think I want to do the latter already.)

Okay. So, let’s finish this application, and let’s rock it!

P.S. And I know that I want the degree so that I can further my career in teaching, expanding it to English, as well as creating the possibility of teaching at the college level. However, I think that is precisely what has been holding gem back from seeing what is really there for me. That just makes so much sense. It is difficult to set aside things that make beautiful sense. If I take the step of this graduate program now, then I can begin teaching English quite soon. However, I love teaching high school. And I love doing other things, too. I am substitute teaching today. I love subbing regularly in a school, where I get to know the students just enough, but am not stuck to one subject area alone. Long-term subbing is kind of the best. Yes, it pays way less than regular teaching. But I love it. I want to teach part-time. Period. Even when I consider my life post-Master-degree, I still see myself teaching only part-time. I think what I fear the most is what I will do in order to sustain a part-time teaching lifestyle financially. Or, rather, how to figure out what to do. If I don’t manage that now, I will spend the next two and a half years freaking out about just that – if only in the background of my mind. I think I want to figure that out now. Now. 🙂

Apparently I have little to comment and share this weekend… I guess the rodeo has me worn out like crazy already, leaving me with hardly any energy to write up more than a sentence of heartfelt nonsense by the time I make it home and to bed each night. 😛